The Thing About Guilt
by Sara Jaye
Summary: When Henry realizes he was too rough on Stanley, he sets out to apologize. But Stanley's always found apologies a tad overrated.


The thing about guilt was that it didn't really consume you so much as it gnawed away at you, slow and steady until you felt like you were going to go insane.

_Sometimes I wonder if you're really part of this family!_

_Now you did it, pinhead!_

_I've changed my mind. You **are** as dumb as I think you are!_

Henry still didn't know why he'd been so harsh with Stanley that day. Maybe it was exam stress, maybe it was case stress, maybe he was just in a plain old unexplainable bad mood. But whatever the reason, he'd said some nasty things to his brother and there was just no excuse for that. They hadn't really talked since then, and the guilt was eating away at him.

Of course Stanley hadn't even batted an eyelash, and that just made it worse. Granted, bickering was part of their daily routine and Stanley was one of the most laid back people he knew, but even laid back people would get angry or feel hurt if someone talked to them the way Henry had talked to Stanley.

Was Stanley so used to his criticisms that he didn't expect any better treatment?

Henry shook his head and put down his calculus book. He wasn't going to get any work done, or any sleep tonight, until he talked to his brother.

-x-

He found Stanley in their room, lounging comfortably on the bed and reading a Spiderman comic. Smiling and acting like nothing had happened, like Henry had never said those nasty things.

Henry sighed as the guilt continued to gnaw at him._ Just do it._

"Stanley? Can I talk to you for a second?"

"What is it, Henry?" Same old cheerful voice. The pangs grew sharper and Henry almost winced. _He may be all smiles on the outside, but I'm sure he's breaking apart inside. Who wouldn't be?_

"Look, Stan..." He swallowed. "We both know I gave you a hard time earlier." Stanley shrugged, not looking up from his comic.

"You always give me a hard time, what of it?"

"Well, this time I said some pretty nasty things," Henry said. "And I just want you to know that I'm sorry. I didn't mean a single word of it, and if I could take them all back-"

"It's okay, Henry," Stanley said. "You were just in a bad mood, it happens."

"_Stanley_," Henry persisted, "I know that comment about how you didn't belong in this family had to have hurt your feelings. Sure, you didn't _look_ upset, but-"

"I wasn't," Stanley said. "Really, Henry, you don't need to apologize, it happened and it's over." He turned a page in his comic, and Henry grabbed him by the shoulders in frustration. That was the trouble with Stanley, he was too slow to anger and too quick to brush things off. Granted, that was usually a _good_ thing, but not when he had every conceivable _right_ to be upset.

"Will you put down that comic and _listen_ to me?" Stanley folded down the page, set the comic on the nightstand and looked at him.

"Henry, why are you making such a big deal about this? So you acted like a jerk for no good reason, it wouldn't be the first time," he said. "We've all acted like jerks for no good reason before."

"But I've never said anything so mean to you before," Henry said. "Are you really telling me you're not hurt by it?"

"Yeah, I am." Stanley reached up and placed his hands over Henry's. "Because I know you, Henry. No matter what you say or how you say it, I know you don't set out to hurt people's feelings on purpose," he said. "Especially mine."

The touch of his brother's hands soothed his frayed nerves, and the gnawing sensation of his guilt began to fade.

"You say a lot of things, Henry, but I know that deep down under that grouchy stick in the mud front of yours, you're a good guy and an even better brother," Stanley continued. "I know you care about me even if you're not good at showing it sometimes."

The gnawing stopped, and Henry smiled. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd known that all along, Stanley wasn't the kind of person to let a relationship with anyone be ruined by a few poorly-chosen words. Slow to anger, even slower to lose faith in a person.

"Stan..."

"And besides, I was being pretty stupid with all that fez business and slowing us down by picking up that fare," Stanley laughed. "Once a dummy, always a dummy, eh?"

Henry shook his head and drew his brother into a warm hug.

"You're _my_ dummy," he murmured, "and I wouldn't trade you for anyone in the world." Stanley laughed softly, returning the embrace and nestling his head against his shoulder.

"I love you too, Henry." And it was as if the guilt was never there. He and Stanley would always argue, always clash, but their familiarity and closeness ran deeper than any differences of theirs.

Still, Henry thought, it might be a good idea to choose his words more carefully from now on, regardless of his mood.


End file.
